


Magnets

by Goatalicious



Category: Claymore (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Begging, Bondage, But its a modern AU so its uo to you, Dom/sub, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Ophelia is less Ophelia to make this sane, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possibly OOC, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation, Sex Toys, Shibari, Suspension, Vibrators, Who wouldn't bottom for Galatea lets be fucking real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 01:57:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16358471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goatalicious/pseuds/Goatalicious
Summary: Same universe as Make Me Fade except Opheliasubs for Galatea.---“I hate bitches like you so damn much.” Ophelia pants, writhing against the ropes that hold her aloft.“Oh really? Perhaps it would be better if I just left.” Galatea says from her left.That gives Ophelia pause. She swallows the saliva gathering in her mouth. “What would be the fun in that?”





	Magnets

“I hate bitches like you so damn much.” Ophelia pants, writhing against the ropes that hold her aloft.

“Oh really? Perhaps it would be better if I just left.” Galatea says from her left.

That gives Ophelia pause. She swallows the saliva gathering in her mouth. “What would be the fun in that?”

“Maybe I should leave you strung up like this for a while, see if you learn your lesson?” When there's no reply, Galatea sighs loudly and reaches for the noise cancelling headphones. Its the last accessory. The icing on the cake.

She places them over Ophelia's ears. They’re black, contrasting the blood red blindfold and ropes. Ophelia is suspended with her arms behind her, legs spread and knees bent, tilted just slightly forward so the blood rushes to her face. Normally she’d rather have her submissives facing the ceiling, but Ophelia is a notorious drooler and nearly choked on her own spit the last time. Briefly, she laments that the vibrator is a bright sky blue, clashing horribly. What a shame, it would have made a pretty picture.

Galatea gets a moment to take in the scene before the reaches for the remote to the vibrator. She pulls up a chair and presses the On button.

Ophelia barely reacts to the first setting. She's grinning, clearly determined to disappoint Galatea, to elicit some sort of reaction. Rather than retaliate right away, she let it run for a few minutes. The grin fades a bit. Then she randomly turns it up halfway to the highest intensity.

The change in intensity causes Ophelia to exhale. But the seemingly random intervals of the vibrations wipes the smile off her face. Her brow furrows, clearly listening and thinking about whether or not Galatea has actually left.

They had done suspension, and varying levels of sensory deprivation. But there was always touch, or sound, or sight to ground the scene. Galatea understood, more or less, what Ophelia was looking for when she came to her. She took pleasure being brought apart and put back together, not just physically, but mentally.

The vibrators base shifts up and down as the first orgasm hits Ophelia. Her body shakes in its confines. Galatea puts a stop to the vibrations momentarily. The grin is back with a vengeance. She even laughs.

“I knew you could never leave me alone. You like this too fucking much. You enjoy my suffering don’t you?”

Galatea snorts and rolls her eyes. Its too easy to rile her up. The On button is pressed again.

Chest heaving, Ophelia's moans ring out loudly. She's putting on a show, knowing she has an audience. She comes again at a set of particularly intense pulses.

The vibrations don’t stop. Her hips wiggle in pleasurable discomfort. “Ah fuck! That's not fair,” she says with a giggle.

Complaints are lost in her blissed out babbling. Ophelia's growing restless, her fists clenching and unclenching. The ropes and ceiling apparatus are strong, but still creak at the constant movements.

A third orgasm rips through Ophelia and no solace is found. Her babbling goes quiet as she hisses through her teeth, some drool making its way down her chin.

“Galatea please, please I-I can’t take it anymore! Shit!” streams of pleading sound out. If this weren’t Ophelia, Galatea might stop the scene. But no safe word yet.

Ophelia loves to find limits and push them, see how far they will bend before they break. Galatea did as well, which is how they made a good match. They had discussed today in detail beforehand. Galatea understands her physical limits well enough. But listened to Ophelia for any unwanted distress.

Groans through gritted teeth were a tell that she was reaching her final peak. Her head thrown back, as if trying to escape the onslaught of sensation. Her voice was rough, “Fuck! I don’t-I can’t. Galatea I’m  _ sorry _ ”

That was the most important tell. On cue, Galatea strode over, pulling off the blindfold and headphones quickly. She gripped Ophelia's chin and knelt to look into her eyes. 

Sobbing in relief, Ophelia could barely keep her eyes open. Galatea turned down the vibrations and spoke curtly. “I will forgive you. Can you give me one more?”

“I don’t know.”

“Color?”

“ _ Green, holy shit.” _

Galatea chuckles at that. Then she sets the vibrations to a quick and hard pulse. Ophelia screams as she comes hard for the 4th time. 

\-----

Once the ropes are lowered and undone, Galatea bridal carries Ophelia over to the couch. She reaches for the cool washcloths she readied earlier, but Ophelia grabs her wrist.

“Wait, please.”

“Something wrong?” Galatea asks, looking her over.

“Nope. Can you do the thing first though?” Ophelia asks, smile not even slightly sheepish.

“My clothes will get dirty!” Galatea fake protests, but lays Ophelia down on her stomach. She then promptly crawls on top and lays on her with all of her weight, chest pressed to Ophelia's back.

“Thank you.” Ophelia's says, slightly muffled with her cheek pressed against the leather of the seat.

Galatea huffs a laugh into Ophelias shoulder. After a whole session without touch, it makes sense she would want this. “Squishy.” she says, affectionately rubbing over the rope lines along her arms.

“Shut up.”

  
  
  
  



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